The Colour of Fortitude is Blue
by heathersjeans
Summary: He will continue to search for his love, no matter how long it takes. Oneshot, SasuNaru, angst.


**A/N:** This fanfic was inspired by the song "Three Cheers for Five Years" by Mayday Parade. Go check it out, it's a great song, and I recommend the accoustic version, though both the accoustic and original are good.

**Title: **The Colour of Fortitude is Blue

**Warnings: **SasuNaru, angst

**Spoilers: **The Sasuke Retrieval/Valley of the End arc.

**Rated: **T

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto, (or Mayday Parade and related works), nor am I making any money by publishing this fanfic.

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The village of Konoha is beautiful at night.

It is only at night that the usual business of the day can give in to the peacefulness of darkness. All is quiet, and the stars burn brightly, like candles guiding the travellers to Heaven's moon over Hokage Mountain lies low in the sky, burning a bright and intense orange. The air is still, and, except for the slight breeze, one would think it was summer. Now, you can rest, happy in your bed. Now, he looks out into the night, and wishes.

He cannot sleep. It is another night, another dream wasted on him. Sleep, once as wecoming as an old friend, has turned sharp and bitter as winter-white snow. In sleep, there are inevitably dreams, and in dreams, there lies your very core. Your thoughts and wishes, hopes and aspirations, are all depicted in dreams. Your needs, wants, pain, sorrow, happiness, and anguish, are all paraded, as bittersweet dramas, in dreams.

Your love.

He stands, still and silent, at the window. He has just woken from a dream, a dream of a wish. A friend. A love. A cerulean eye, so often smiling and laughing, holds no mirth now. He gazes, through golden blond hair, out at the village, and at the stars. He stares out, over in the direction a comrade, rival, friend, and love, who had walked away from this village almost three years ago, on a night so very like tonight. He had walked away from Konoha, from Team 7. From him. And, even though he had tried so hard, and fought so long, he could not bring him back.

He had failed.

A bond so strong, he would fight anything to protect it. He would travel to the ends of the earth, and back again, to prove it. He would do anything to prove it. He would give up anything. He would die. But it had not been good enough. No matter how hard he tried, how hard his friends and fellow shinobi had tried, it had never been good enough.

At The Valley of the End, this had been proven. He shifts almost imperceptibly, and winces at the memory. But he must remember, for he must never forget.

At The Valley of the End, he had fought his comrade, rival, friend and love. He had tried everything. He had trained so long and so hard. He is a Jinchuuriki, he is strong.

But not strong enough.

At The Valley of the End, he had touched him, taken his hand in his own, and blue eyes looked into deep, deep black. For a moment, there was complete understanding. They were together, and then they were one. Suddenly, each could feel the other, and realised that everything in their lives up to that moment, had been running parallel. Always, each had been aware of the other. It was almost natural. They were different. They were the same. In one, the other found comfort. In the other, one found understanding. Together, they were meant to be. The moment lingered indefinitely. It was a second. It was a lifetime.

Shattered glass, diamond fragments; blinding light swirled around and around and around. Don't ever stop. Don't ever leave me.

Blue eyes, oddly watery, had gazed deep into obsidian ones.

_I love you. _

Black eyes gazed back, holding the cerulean eye of the other, and a thousand emotions, previously so carefully hidden away, had crossed his face. Love, fear, anguish, duty, need, want, sorrow. Pain. Black eyes told a thousand words, and had shut. Head turned away.

_I know._

Then, the whole world shattered.

Pain.

Love.

Hopelessness.

Despair.

Then, all had turned black.

He shudders - the memory sends goosebumps across his bare arms. A drop of liquid moonlight rolls silently down his cheek, from eye to jaw. He shakes his head, pushing away the thought that, perhaps, somewhere, his love is doing the same as he is now. Wishing, gazing, longing. Remembering.

At The Valley of the End, his love had stared down at the blond boy. The rain fell, and the world seemed so small, and sad, and _lonely._ But his love had had a choice. He remembered. His love could have killed him then and there. He could have done it. There was no back-up. No resistance. Nothing.

But he didn't.

Naruto shivers in the cold night air, and turns to bed once more, and to the hitai-ate that is not his. He will sleep alone tonight. Perhaps, if he could sleep, he could relive the Valley of the End, even if it was only in a dream. Perhaps, he would wake up, and find out this is all just a sick, twisted nightmare. Perhaps, the sleep would depict happy dreams. Perhaps, he would not dream at all.

Perhaps.

But he knows that he would rather see the dreams that had chased the sleep away, the bittersweet nightmares that had left him covered in sweat, and shaking, when he woke. He would rather see his love in these dreams, and hold on to the fact that though Sasuke had had the chance - the perfect oppertunity - to kill him, he didn't.

He didn't.

He moves to bed, and lays there. No matter what, the fact still remains, he didn't kill him. And he will find him, and bring him back.

He will search, and fight, and kill if he had to. He will never forget, and he will never give up.

Believe it.


End file.
